Evading Truths
by Tsukino Kaze
Summary: Squinoa.A pact of the four most dangerous militaries lays in jeopardy.A single man stands between its fall and rise, while a woman seeks the answer he is afraid to admit.What hides behind this man and how will it effect the world and the woman he loves?
1. Secret Garden

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters that belong to Squaresoft. If you don't even know who those characters are, you might enjoy reading something else. :)

Hurray! My second fanfiction finally started! I've been wanting to start another one for a while, but I had no idea what to make it about. I _still _have no idea what I want to make it about. Well, not quite, I do have a first chapter, don't I? Its a start anyway. The story line will probably get really deep in this one, so prepare you mind for Razzle Dazzle! (quote taken from The Simpsons). I think I'll let you start the chapter now:

Chapter 1: Secret Garden

The precarious door swung open with a loud whine, barely gripping onto the hinges. A figure stepped in, silhouetted against the outside neon lights of the bustling city. The bartender looked up from behind the table, suspicion cast over his senses. The others at the bar glanced up from their drinks and sputtered conversations, uninterested in the interruption. The figure moved out from the light, barely missing the door as it swung back closed with a rattled slam. The interior glow shown down on the person, unveiling the soft, feminine features and the fully curved figure.

The woman pulled off the broad hat she wore and looked up at the dim ceiling lights, smirking slightly. Her eyes then returned down to inspect the pub's interior. The place was small and cramped, people shoved into various corners and walls. The bar itself held about ten men piled together, each raking their gaze wantonly over her. Air in here was thick and heavy, setting a blanket of tobacco smoke everywhere. The reek of sweat and dirt filled her nostrils.

The woman pulled her long, leather cloak closer to her, feeling somehow violated. She walked with pure confidence, though, and her black boots clicked loudly in the pub's silence. Her strides brought her to the end of the bar table, where she leaned between two grisly men and motioned to the bartender. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as her senses were filled with the smell of alcohol and breath that needed a good brushing. Her brown eyes flicked dangerously to the man at her left: the one huffing all over her. His eyes bustled about her half drunkenly and he grinned smugly. His unshaven face came incredibly close to hers and he gave her a half attempted wink as he gargled:

"Hey babe, howz bout...hick...you an' I.." his sentence went unfinished as his heavy body sunk off the chair and onto the floor, out cold.

The woman stood with her hand covering her nose and her brows knitted in appallment. She sighed in somewhat relief and waited only a moment before taking his stool. Again, she motioned to the bartender. He came over with a friendly face and a greeting grin. His slightly pudgy body caused the bar to creak as he leaned on it. "Yes ma'am?"

The woman said nothing, but rather waved him closer. She threw conspicuous glances around the pub and dared anyone to even try eavesdropping. She then leaned forward, pulling dark hair out of her face as she whispered into the man's ear. When she pulled back he blinked several times, a bit confused. The girl opened her coat just enough to reveal only more dark clothes beneath. Her hand slipped into an inside pocket, previously not noticed, and she retrieved a picture, offering it to the bartender. He took it and peered from a distance, then up close. His eyes fluttered open wide only for a moment before he averted his gaze. "No, ma'am, I'm sorry." His eyes focused intensely on the TV in the corner and he was unwilling to meet the woman's eyes. He handed back the photo. "Haven't seen im at all."

The terrier is not easily deceived once its caught the scent of the fox. The woman narrowed her eyes and stood demandingly from the chair. She opened her mouth to call the bartender's lie, but he had already made his escape to the other end of the bar. She looked down by where he was only to be met by more hungry gazes of the drunken. Her throat made a grunt of disgust before she placed the hat back onto her head.

She took four firm steps to the door before she half turned back to the bar. Her once held cloak was released from her grip, opening to reveal the interior clothing. Several people, including the bartender, turned to see the tight, black leather vest she wore... but their eyes were not drawn to the seductive view of her cleavage. Instead, everyone's shaken stare was at the row of handguns lined down both sides of her torso. Not wasting a moment, she pulled out a 1911 automatic pistol and straightened her arm towards the bartender.

"Wrong answer," she whispered before firing a single shot. The bartender was instantly killed, a fine line of blood trickling down his forehead. The body had not yet fallen, nor anyone reacted, before the woman was out the door and gone.

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Deling grew into the night, living to its full potential. People can out into the starlight, blending with the dark atmosphere; singing with the neon glow. Shops of every type opened, offering only the finest of products. Shows were displayed everywhere, from street performers to the most expensive ceremonies. Hotels held elegant parties, seating only those who have made reservations months ahead of time.

It was an oasis of lights - a paradise in the desert. The starred sky of black and blue contrasted with the yellows of signs and the brilliant purples. Music was also a large commodity during the nocturnal hours. Symphonies graced the perfect dinner while jazz livened up the clubs. Loud and bright: the perfect place to meet people... and the perfect place to hide.

It was the most expensive hotel in a ten mile diameter. She spend not a spare moment before checking in and rushing up to the ninth floor. There, at the end of the hallway, was her room. Inside it was dark, the curtains shrouding the outside light. The woman shed her black clothes and carefully placed them into several drawers. The handguns were placed under that, in the safe each room was given. The shotgun was put deep under the large mattress, accompanying her HK 93 SG1 sniper rifle and the two M16 machine guns.

She walked across the room, clad in only her undergarments. She opened the glass closet and hummed a simple tune while tracing her finger over at least ten different dresses. Her beat skipped a little before she made a low, satisfied hum and pulled out a dress. Again, she tripped across the room in the dark, fumbling for the light switch. After finding it, she slipped into the dress and looked in the mirror.

The clothing was scarlet red and long, leaving a small tail of cloth to trail along her step. The top came low in a v' style and sparkled with cleverly placed jewels and sequins. Thin straps draped over her milky white shoulders and twined down her arms to long matching gloves. Long waving ruffles played the dress's fringes and moved in harmony to her waist's movements.

The woman applied a fair amount of lipstick, bright as her dress. Her raven hair was pulled up into a tight bun, several strands purposely left hanging down her slender neck. She stumbled clumsily over to the closet again to retrieve two high heeled sandals. Once more checking herself in the mirror, she left grabbing a small, white purse.

()()()()()()

"That couple over there," she pointed, reaching past the waiter's shoulder and directing him in the right area. He led her to the small table containing a man and woman.

The pair looked up from their menus, greeting the standing woman with beaming smiles. The man was the first to stand, his ponytail of red hair falling over his shoulders as he bowed lowly. "Rinoa," he greeted.

The standing woman looked around bashfully. She then fixed the man with a stern glare. "Sit down before I make a fool of you!" She hissed playfully.

The man chuckled and sat, offering Rinoa a seat next to him. She pulled out the cushioned chair and sank into its luxury. A soft sigh escaped her ruby lips before she turned to the other woman. "Nice to see you, too, Quistis," said Rinoa.

"Hm, we could've been eating by now," Quistis looked back down at her menu. She had long strawberry blonde hair, pulled into two high clips on the back of her head. Flowing bangs were pulled behind tiny ears and her eyes were arctic blue. She played a deceiving roll of the bitch.' Often times Rinoa wasn't sure if she was kidding of being serious. She had learned from past experiences not to assume, so she picked up a menu as well.

"But I haven't decided what to order anyway...." Quistis trailed, looking back up at Rinoa. A small smile graced her full lips. Rinoa returned the smile, fully relaxed now.

The restaurant the three were seated at was held outdoors by a large park. It was placed behind most of the buildings, so most light came from this particular diner itself. It was cool outside and less noisy than the streets. Blue and silver moonlight flooded onto the nearly empty park. Grassy hills moved like waves in a soft breeze and could been seen all the way to a small stream. Beyond the stream lay a bridge and a long walkway. A tall arch glittered along the path and started up the bustling city again, this time from the other side of town.

Rinoa sighed as she looked out at the scene, lost in thought. He could be _anywhere_. Over there, at this restaurant, across the world. And who were they? Three lone bounty hunters sent on this mission six months ago. And everywhere they searched, it was the same ordeal. Nope, haven't seen him', Don't even know that face', Who?', Can't help you, sorry,'. Absolutely nobody knew his whereabouts... or even a single clue! He was either a mastermind genius or the stupidest man with the best of luck.

They sat at this same diner five months ago, believing they had him in the palms of their hands. Well, that proved a failure. And this probably would, too. Deling was his favorite hide out... or so it seemed. Maybe they were just mislead here every time. Still, it was true that people had seen him. The bartender earlier was clear evidence. But why wouldn't he admit seeing him? Was he in league? Was he working for him? No matter, the pub owner's dead now.

Rinoa coughed silently, averting her gaze back to her lap. We've gotten _nowhere_!' she thought to herself. How long can we keep this up? How long will the three of us work in unison? We're in his league now.' Rinoa looked up to see Irvine smiling at her.

"Its not everyday you wear something so nice, Rinoa," he commented towards her dress.

"Neither you," she remarked slyly, winking towards his dark brown suit. He grinned wider.

"So," he continued. "Did you find anything useful today?"

"Nah, just some stubborn suspects. I swear, this guy has got nations under his thumb!"

Irvine's smile vanished into the breeze and he looked harder at Rinoa. "Suspects you say? You mean witnesses?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Where? What'd they say?"

"Absolutely nothing," she whined, then added below her breath: "And nothing ever again."

"What was that?" Irvine eyed her suspiciously.

"Nothing."

"No, don't try to cover it up now. What did you do to him?"

"I shut him up is what I did!" she protested defiantly.

Irvine rubbed his temples solemnly. "Damn it, Rinoa! You can't go around just killing people because they don't give you answers! We could have still come back and interrogated! Now we're down to nothing!"

"Well, he could have--"

"No," intruded Quistis calmly. "We aren't down to nothing. Not anymore."

Both Rinoa and Irvine looked at Quistis with hopeful eyes. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

"Oh, look, the waiter's here. I'll have the Mahi Mahi with vinaigrette, please," Quistis stated.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

"Alright, what is it?" Irvine asked hurriedly. The waiter had just left with their orders and Irvine waisted no time getting information out of the blonde.

Quistis merely smiled and reached for her purse. "I was at the coffee shop this morning and found this stapled to the wall." She pulled out a fragment of a newspaper and handed it to the other two.

Rinoa and Irvine eagerly grappled for the small slip of paper, shoving each other out of the way to see it. Their prying eyes looked over the small picture and scanned the article swiftly. Irvine leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin profoundly. "Hm, I'm afraid I don't get it, Quis..."

Quistis shot Irvine a fatal glare. "That's Quistis. And only one as ignorant as you wouldn't be able to see it." She looked expectantly at the other companion.

Rinoa sat with her eyes still pasted to the paper. She had heard Quistis's comment, but couldn't quite find the meaning of the piece of paper either. "Yeah.... I get it..." she lied.

"Oh really?" Smiled Quistis knowingly. "Then how about you explain it to Irvine?"

Rinoa half heartedly laughed, knowing she could never get by the clever Quistis. She turned the paper over to her. "Alright, what is it?"

Quistis sighed and shook her head. "No wonder we aren't getting anywhere. We have a team consisting of a trigger happy interrogator, a laid back slacker, and only one doing any work!

"Oh, let it go," moaned Irvine. "You know you wouldn't be anywhere without us."

"Better than being at start back in Deling!" she spat back.

"This is why we're not getting anywhere!!" Shouted Rinoa a little too loudly. She immediately slouched into the chair's cushion when everyone in the restaurant turned to look at her. "Please just continue, Quistis."

"Gladly," she sneered. "If you look closely here," she pointed to a small detail in the picture, "You'll see a familiar symbol. Recognize it?"

"No..." Irvine said lowly.

Quistis continued with a roll of her eyes. "Its the symbol following around our culprit. Wherever we hear he's been, this symbol has been there as well."

Rinoa took time to look closer at the photo. It was a bit familiar now that she think about it. It had that same distinctive look of yin and yang, only slightly warped. "What is it?" she asked without looking up.

"Did you read the article?" asked Quistis.

Rinoa began to scan the writing again, reading below her breath: "Gardens set on base at north Trabia, central Balamb and southwest Galbadia, seek the occupants of SeeD..." she scanned further down. "...military units set off base on various missions...." down more. "....dangerous and highly secret operations. Participants attend one of the three Gardens from years five to twenty five..." Rinoa looked up. "SeeD?"

"Exactly," stated Quistis with triumph. "He's part of these secret missions."

"But these must be government and national operations. They wouldn't advertise it in a newspaper if it wasn't." Quistis nodded and Rinoa continued slowly with confusion: "We're working for the National Guard. Doesn't that mean....?"

"Yep, we're on the same side. Only he must've broken the rules-- done something against regulation."

"But why doesn't his Garden just stop him?" asked Irvine.

"Because this guy's the best of the best. He's failed in none of his missions. All have been a success. Garden won't sacrifice him no matter what deed he's done. If anything, Garden is helping him to stay under cover."

"Can't the National Guard just search whichever Garden he's in?"

"Nope," said Quistis. "Nobody even knows which garden he attends. And besides, National Guard can't get search warrants into the Garden. Part of the top secret' crap they do there. Garden is almost a government in itself."

"Well then," wondered Rinoa. "Why don't the other two Gardens that he doesn't attend to just let National Guard search. Simple process of elimination."

"Not quite," Quistis went on. "Like I said, Garden is a powerful community with its own government. Well, almost. Just enough to keep the National Guard at bay. I was researching all day today at the library and found conspiracies and secrets running throughout all three Gardens. If any one of them let the NG search their files, they'd be ruined. The Gardens pull all sorts of illegal acts."

"Like what?" Irvine's curiosity was piqued higher.

"Like hidden assassinations and breakdowns. Gardens hold one of the highest sources and trace backs of computer and mechanical viruses. They also import and export all sorts of illegal and foreign goods. The Nation is indeed conscious of most these acts, but there's nothing it can do. If the Gardens joined as one power, they could outweigh any government of any nation."

"What kinds of imports?" asked Irvine.

Quistis opened her mouth to explain, but stopped herself. "Are you even listening to me? That's the least of our worries right now! In fact, I don't even know why I'm explaining all this Garden information."

"Its certainly interesting," added Rinoa politely.

"Yeah, but we need to stay focused on--" Quistis didn't bother finishing, for the other two had their eyes fixed on the steaming food being placed in front of them. "This is why we don't hold meetings at dinner," she mumbled to herself.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The night had finished without any firm plans. Each went to their separate hotels to gain some much needed sleep. Dawn slurred lethargically into morning, which beat through the windows and curtains of Rinoa's room. The rays melted through her eyelids and seemed to find the most pleasure in annoying her.

She moaned sleepily and stretched out over the huge bed, pale sheets tangled with her legs. Her eyes opened to greet the orange light with her mocha brown irises. She sighed once more before crawling out of the bed and trampling to the bathroom. Her sleepiness was washed away with a cold shower and the morning light was a more blithe sight for the second time.

The girl brushed out her long, black hair and pulled it into a loose ponytail. She then slipped into a comfortable pair of shorts and a baggy blue t-shirt. Her bags were packed with all her clothes, accessories, weapons, and complimentary soaps. Her trip down to the lobby was enjoyable, for her journey was finally getting somewhere. No more circles.

()()()()()()()

Rinoa met the other two at the small coffee shop Quistis had been in the day before. It was a pleasant store where Rinoa was sure to grab a cup of the strongest, most caffeinated coffee she could get. Her energy would surely not last her until three that afternoon.

"So where to?" asked Irvine to nobody in particular. He was back to his casual attire as well: loose jeans and a black t-shirt. His dark red hair was still pulled into a ponytail, but then again, it always was.

"North," stated Quistis. She wore a long floral skirt with a small pink top. Her sunglasses shaded no real light, for they were still in the coffee shop. The woman often veiled her eyes, but Rinoa had yet to really discover why. Quistis wore her hair the same as the day before.

"That's pretty vague, Quis," remarked Rinoa.

"That's Quistis." Rinoa knew the look she was getting from behind the glasses. "And we're going north to Trabia. We'll use your little method from last evening, Rinoa."

"And what's that?"

"Process of elimination," grinned the blonde. "We can hack into Trabia Garden's data base easily enough. Its pulling off the act of not getting caught that I'm worried about."

With that, the three left the cozy coffee shop, heading for the nearest train station. Nobody with sense enough would have known that these three friends walking down the street with coffee were the National Guard's best bounty hunters.

A/N: Chapter one complete! Yay for me! Its hard for me to believe I made up all that secret conspiracy' stuff about Garden _as _I was writing. Heh, I can only hope the rest of this will prove to have as much luck! Review please! I need feedback and opinions!! Rattles empty cup by the side of the road


	2. The Other Side

Disclaimer: I don't own any Square characters or game landmarks.... unfortunately.

Another update! Yeaaaah! I'm so happy I was able to finish this one. I had some trouble with this chapter and restarted it about three times. I finally came up with a final decision. Sorry for any mistakes or blemishes. Thanks to all my reviewers! (Especially IttanMomen who wrote most of the reviews!)

Chapter 2: The Other Side

Summer months dragged on. Spring had been a better season for the job, but simple miscalculations had pulled the operation into hotter days. The languorous afternoons were coming to an end, though, as autumn took the front seat. Colors blew the wind into a whipping stream of dull yellows and bright reds. Green drained into faint, crunching browns, while trees shivered in nakedness. The sun seemed to grow larger in the sky, becoming the great molten orb that drained its essence onto distant hills in the evenings.

Red wasn't only the color of leaves at this time. Far south of the equator, where winter threatened to strike earlier, liquid crimson dripped from gloved fingertips. It fell into a larger puddle of the liquid, where ringlets grew and spread after each slow drop. The blood thickly smoothed out over a cement path before it stopped at a fallen body. The man lay face down, his features unrecognizable by cause of his own wounds. Above him stood the dominator, a casual, uninterested expression strewn across his face. He pulled a stiff, towel-like cloth from his back pocket. On its ivory material he rubbed off both his hands before tending to his long gunblade laying some feet away. He then threw the cloth on the dead corpse, red as the rest of the scene.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

Night settled onto the southern land, crisp and free of straining clouds. Stars winked devilishly from above, as if sharing some celestial secret. The moon was only a sliver, but it cast enough light to fill the air with a transparent film of pale blue. Below on the ground lay a quiet town, slumbering through the dark hours. Here, through the deserted streets, walked a shadowy figure. His gate was firm yet light, barely kept from a jog. But the pace was silent as not a single leaf or twig crunched beneath his shoes. The town went oblivious to the man, sleeping through his passing.

Eventually, the figure was brought to the farthest side north of the town. Here was placed a station by a pier, as vacant as the town. Only a single soul, besides that of the man, was present. It was a station employee, still up in the wee hours of morning. He was rather plump and sat in his private window office with a newspaper covering his face. The shadowy man wasn't sure if the employee was actually reading or asleep, but either way....

There was a loud knock from the other side of the window and the stoutly man was rudely shaken from his half-daze. He pulled down the newspaper to see a young man on the other side. The worker blinked his eyes casually to clear his vision. This time the younger man's features were more defined. He had brown hair roughly placed atop his head. It might have been long enough to reach to his chin, but most it was obediently pulled behind his ears. Some of the bangs hung loose, covering one eye. The other visible one was a vibrant blue and eerily unnerved the worker. Across his face was a long, freshly healed scar, going from the bottom of his forehead, across his nose, to right under his left eye. His clothes were blacker than the outside night and it was hard to tell where his long coat ended and the pants began.

"Can I help ya?" asked the man behind the register.

"I need a train to Timber," stated the dark man firmly.

The plump man chuckled heartily to himself before it died out suddenly. "I'm sorry, mister, but do you see any train?"

The brunette was not moved one bit. His eyes burned into the other's. "I need the train," he stated again.

This time the employee did not laugh. His cheeky face dropped and his tiny eyes became threatening. He leaned towards the window speaker as far as he could before squashing his nose against it. "Lemme try this without spelling it out: There. Is. No. Train."

Again, the brunette did not advert his stern glare. "You'll give me the ticket if I have to-"

"Sir," cut off the round man. "This is a pier. We have boats and boats alone. Unless that's what you meant, than I'd be glad to help ya. Let alone its one in the morning and nobody's gonna get up to ferry your sorry ass up to Timber!" He raised his paper back to shroud his face from the man outside. It was only a second before he heard a metallic click and pulled down the paper again. He was a bit alarmed to see a pistol of some sort pressed and aimed through the glass.

"Now," said the man quietly as he pulled out his wallet and ID, "You'll give me the ticket."

The stout worker was taken aback slightly, but composed himself soon enough. A smug smile spread across this greasy face. "This is bullet proof glass, sir. Take your issues elsewhere."

"Maybe, but I don't think the door will be hard to get through," said the darkly dressed man with a swift glance to the screen door in the back of the room. He offered his ID again through the window sill's opening.

This time the worker appeared permanently panicked. His previous confidence seemed to have fled straight through the screen door and over the ocean. He complied submissively and took the ID while eyeing the held gun suspiciously. He quickly scanned the identification and as his eyes traveled over the word SeeD', he gave a light gasp.

"Ohhh," he exaggerated as if seeking revelation, "Thaaaat train. Well, Mr. Squall, is it? You most certainly must be more specific," he finish with utmost politeness. He reached into his stained beige shirt and pulled out a chain with at least ten keys on it. He fingered through several before coming across one that looked nearly identical to the rest. Then, leaning under the desk, he opened a drawer and pulled out a single piece of paper. "Here you are sir," he added with a greasy grin, "And have a nice trip."

Squall accepted the ticket brutally, nearly ripping it from the worker's fat fingers. He shoved the gun into a holster hidden cleverly among the many folds of clothing. Without a word of gratitude, he continued his brisk walk deeper into the small station.

At the end of a dark hallway, lay a door slightly ajar. Nobody would have paid it any heed unless it was searched for. Through this door, Squall slipped past and down a long, pitch stairway. Towards the bottom some wall lights had been lit. They were a murky and sickly yellow, only illuminating the path enough to see ahead three feet. Once at the bottom, though, there was a brightly lit room with a similar window station as before. This one was also accommodated by a man, but he was no doubt asleep.

Squall knocked on the glass irritable, having long enough dealt with tired, cranky men. Surprisingly, this one rose his head with more curiosity than anger. He looked to the brunette outside expectantly and without question. Squall slid the ticket under the window and the man tore it in half without actually looking at it.

"Just is time sir," the man yawned. "We were about to depart in five minutes."

"Take off with an empty train?" asked Squall skeptically.

"The train's not empty sir, and there are people in Timber waiting for their ride.""Right," drawled Squall half to himself before he walked through another door.

Past the final door lay the actual train station. It was a huge underground place, but was sealed off at all walls. It must've been some sixty or seventy feet under the town and the ocean was dominate this deep down. The train was long, round, and sat on a single-railed track that disappeared down twisting tube. The tube itself was about thirty feet high and made of framed glass. Outside the water moved, lit by the moonlight only from where the pier began out into the sea. The odd rippled patterns the water makes in light could only be seen on the outskirts of the station, where the metal plank ended and the tube began.

Squall seemed unconcerned about his surroundings, for he had been in the under water stations many times throughout his career. His pace remained constant until he opened the manual door and stepped into one of the cars. The train's interior was that of first class and higher. Seats sat a comfortable distance from each other and were padded with thick, leather coverings. There was a carpet as well, richly colored and decorated jade green. Squall sat down next to a window.

It seemed that as soon as the brunette had sunk into the luxury, the train's speaker came on. It was an actual person rather than the repetitive voice of a happy recording.

"Yeah, we'll be taking off shortly," it spoke as if in mid-sentence. "I know there's only a few of you this morning, but please remain in your seats. The trip will take a total of about... uh, one and a half hours, so sit back and enjoy. Complimentary drinks will be of service if you press..." the voice continued, but Squall was past listening. Instead, he folded his hands comfortably on his lap and lied his head back against the built-in pillow. He vaguely wondered who else took the train, but his thoughts soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Timber would have been a good place to continue, but he was on vacation. Breaks were not to be taken lightly, and Squall would think twice if he should ever take them for granted.

The train had delayed slightly on the trip, taking a short detour, and it was about four thirty when it pulled into the Timber Station. Squall had been off the train for about an hour and was currently searching the city for an Inn. There were many throughout this touristy place, but it was not the flashy, thirty story building Squall was in search for. Instead, he opened the door to a cramped, nearly hidden hotel that looked the size of someone's house.

Inside the place was a small kitchen desk accommodated by a elderly woman. She sat with her head resting in a hand while concentrating hard at a magazine crossword below her. "G'morning, Squall," she piped without looking up. She reached beneath the desk and pulled out a rusty looking key strung on an old red ribbon.

"Morning," replied Squall as he took the offered key. There wasn't a hint of his usual rudeness as he talked, merely exhaustion.

"Takin' off later today?" inquired the woman when she finally looked up. "Oh," she gasped, "just look at you: about ready to drop dead!" She scurried up from her chair and approached Squall with that motherly look on her wrinkled features.

"I'm fine," protested the younger one. He hurried to take off his black coat and began to walk up the short staircase, but the woman stopped him.

"No you're not," she pulled back on his arm to get up the stairs first. "I'll make up your bed, then I'll set the bath...."

Squall was about to say something again, but the elder had already disappeared through the bedroom door. He couldn't suppress the small smile of amusement he gave towards this old woman with the thin white hair and a height to about only his waist.

Timber was a common place to stop and rest during his missions for the past six years, so he had become accustomed to staying here. Eventually, the Innkeeper had taken a strong liking to him and managed to tend to all of Squall's needs (including those that he had refused to accept). She really was a cute old woman, in dire need of a dog or a thousand cats to keep her busy, but Squall was her replacement for a grandchild, and if it wasn't him she was focused on, it was her crosswords.

"There you go," she cooed from the top of the stairs. "Your bath is warm and waiting for you."

"Thanks, Grams," he called. It was a name he had for her since his first visit. It had intentionally been used with sarcasm, but over time, he meant it as a true relation.

At the top of the stairs was a single bedroom. It wasn't very large, but had enough space to be relaxed and comfortable. The bathroom was connected to the bedroom and was also quite small. It was large enough for only a deep tub and a place to stand.

The old woman waited beside the bathroom door, smiling sweetly towards Squall. "I'll wash your coat and clothes for you, then I'll set out something for you to sleep in."

"Alright." Squall knew it was no use trying to refuse her. She made statements rather than offers. He pulled off his holster and placed it beside his bed. From there he took off his black t-shirt and entered the bathroom. His lithe torso was firmly built and well muscled, but slender enough to send the elderly woman yammering:

"Oh, deary, when was the last you ate? I've seen street poles thicker than you! Did you be sure to eat your proteins and vitamins? You're a growing young man in need of good foods, and this is how you turn out?" she snatched the shirt from his hands. "You finish here with your bath and I'll make you something to eat! My, my kids these days..."

"Grams..." he began, but she had already gone down the stairs.

()()()()()()()

The bath was the most incredible thing Squall had felt in months. The luke warm water was heaven compared to the quick showers of pelting ice he was used to. He sank deep into the enveloping heat and sighed heavily. His knotted muscles finally began to unfold and relax. Bath oils had been added and soaked through his dried flesh and his only regret would be the sweet scent that would linger on him until the next day. But the smell was comforting, for it was the same oils that Grams had always used. It sent Squall's mind into a kind of trance as he was finally in his only true comfort zone. He cleansed his skin and hair with the same scented soaps and shampoos before leaning back and enjoying the rest of the bath. He was nodding on the brink of consciousness when he heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Hurry or your soup'll get cold," called the voice.

The brunette sighed, knowing if he didn't comply soon, the old woman would come in and take him out herself. It was an accomplish enough that Squall managed to convince her that he was quite capable of washing himself. She had overcome the hurt of being told this years ago, but that never stopped her from occasionally barging in when he spent over an hour soaking.

Squall dried off and wrapped the pink towel around his waist before he opened the door. Grams wasn't there, but a pair of loose boxers and a sleeveless shirt (which he had left at the house some years ago for such occasions) were neatly folded on the bed. He swiftly slipped into the attire before he heard footsteps on the stairs. In came the old woman with a tray stacked high with foods.

"Its almost five in the morning..." mentioned Squall with a glance at the large bowl of minestrone, tall glass of milk, plate of five bacon strips, and side dish of cut fruits. He wasn't really complaining and he had to admit that he _was _quite famished.

"Yes, and this'll be your breakfast," she handed him the tray. "I'll go get your orange juice."

Squall sat down on the bed with the food and wasted not a moment before helping himself.

()()()()()()()()()

After the meal had been finish, Grams took the plates and insisted on tucking' Squall in. She finally gave up after the long, annoying whines he made. Instead, she went down the stairs to wash the dishes and returned just in case.

By the time she made it to the room, the boy was fast asleep with nearly his whole self buried under covers and pillows. Grams smiled sadly. Six years ago was the first time she had been introduced to Squall. He was only seventeen and Garden had already been sending him on deadly missions. Back then, this house used to be a hotel... back then she wouldn't have thought some strange kid could grow on her so much. But this was now her grandson... or at least she would have liked to think so. The boy was an orphan, for that was usually what Garden collected. Squall had never really known what it was like to have parents, so Grams was the closest he had. She pondered: he _did _have a sister, she recalled him telling her. Hyne only knew where she was now. Oh well, time might tell. With one last glance at Squall, the elderly woman left the room.

/.

A/N: Well, second chapter complete. Tell me how you liked it. I know Squall was a little weird' in this one, but I just couldn't resist having him be a spoiled child. R&R purdy please!!!!


	3. TimeReborn

Hey everyone! I'm soooo sorry for taking this long to update. I've had tons of homework and practice after school. It made it really hard to stay awake past eight o'clock. Besides that, I also wanted to replace this chapter… rather the chapter that was up here last time. I really didn't like it, probably because I rushed to get something up. Once again, another reason I waited so long. I don't want to mess up this story, so I revised this whole chapter and basically changed the all of it. So forget what you read before!!

Also, I don't own the characters and cuts in the story will still be separated by **BB**. Thank you all for the reviews… it keeps me going. Happy reading!

**BB BB**

Chapter 3: Time- Reborn

_Trepe. Mission 25, Class 6: Case 46 assigned. Objectives.... suspected... left... garden. Objective state ...burial invest... Trabia. Suspected... SeeD rank... suspected. Affirmed... failed. Trepe degree, Mission 25, Class..._

The gunshot rang out clear across the vacant campus. Nobody dared release the breath that they each held in shocked surprise. The gun's barrel pointed to the heavens, rearing a warning by the sweaty palm that held onto the handle tightly. Several people shifted uncomfortably and looked to the panicking girl with doubting eyes.

"Stop it," cautioned one of them standing slightly behind the armed girl. "You're being ridiculous. They obviously don't know and there's no point in scaring the shit out of them if all they'll do is lie." She stepped up and lightly put her hand on the up-reaching arm of her companion, pulling it down until she could reach the gun. "Give it to me and we'll go. The longer we spend here, the quicker he's moving away." Her fingers slid under the sweaty hand, attempting to release the death grip on the gun.

"No," replied the armed girl, returning her full grip to the pistol. "They know. They will not tell me. And they will not live to tell anyone else." There was a swift shuffle as the gun was whipped back out to arm's length and deliberately aimed. Five shots were deftly added to the previous one, only now puncturing the living organs of several men in place of the promising sky. "If I don't find him," she whispered as she brought down the smoking gun, "then nobody will."

**BB**

Quistis woke in a cold sweat, the covers intricately laced in and out of her limbs. She rolled over with a moan and buried her face into the fresh pillow that hadn't been used. It felt cool and reassuring against her flushed skin. She breathed in the musty scent of the old fabric and strode her mind away from the persisting dream. Today, the ending of the first week of autumn, was raging its victory with heavy winds. The window in the corner of the room screeched in protest as bare branches raked against the glass, as if asking for the interior warmth due to its own nakedness.

"Not much better in here," stated Quistis into the pillow mostly toward herself than to the tree. The sweat that glistened over her nearly bare back was beginning to pick up the air in the room. Last night the heater had been neglected and the regrets were finally beginning to settle in.

The young woman rose from the tangle of sheets with another groan, dragging her limp form over to the nearest source of water. When she reached the counter she immediately hesitated, then pressed her hands to the cold surface and looked in the mirror perched before her. The glamour of golden locks now appeared knotted in various directions. The vivid blue irises were framed in a spider web of crimson veins and both eyes were supported atop dark circles. Numb hands fumbled for the paper cups wrapped in hotel-advertised plastic.

"Quistis?" hollered a voice from outside the room.

"What?" Quistis yelled back, dropping the cups and rushing to put on some clothes.

"Hey, it's me!" Quistis guessed Rinoa by the voice. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah hold on. Let me just put on some clothes first," she pulled on a loose pair of jeans and a black tank top. "It's open actually, I think."

"Oh, I guess it is," chimed Rinoa as the door swung open into the room. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she surmised by the dark atmosphere, muffled bed, and rat's nest on Quistis's head.

"No, I was up for a bit," the blonde reached for a band and brush in her small bag on the counter. She began to work at the knots as she watched Rinoa study her surroundings. "It's time to go anyway, isn't it?"

"We have about a half hour before the train gets here, but Irvine and I were going to get some breakfast and coffee downstairs. We thought you might want to come."

"Sure, let me just get this up," grunted Quistis as she yanked the rubber band round and round a twist of hair. "There we go. Ready?"

"Mmhmm," replied Rinoa before they both headed downstairs.

**BB**

"'Morning sweet cheeks," greeted Irvine as both Rinoa and Quistis approached him.

"You're certainly happy this morning. What gives?" asked Quistis with a jealous grimace.

"A whole day of school girls in mini skirts? What more could I possibly ask for?" Irvine led the way into the lobby, adding a certain bounce to his stride.

"Yeah, about that Irvine," tried Rinoa, "I don't think all of us are going to be needed to get into Trabia's files…"

"That's good. At least you don't have to dress up."

"Don't be so thick-skulled. We discussed this earlier already. You're too tall anyway to walk around the Garden without notice."

Irvine frowned as he reached the first table with trays. "They're plenty of tall students that look older than me there. Don't be jealous that I get all the girls, Rinoa."

"You are _impossible_!" Rinoa snatched a tray and hit Irvine on the arm with it. "Just deal would you? This isn't some vacation get away either. You think Quistis and I are actually looking forward to this?"

The blonde snickered behind them. "I don't care either way," she interjected, "just as long as we get the information we need. The sooner we find Him, the sooner my real vacation begins." She picked up a tray and examined the dishes of breakfast foods displayed across several tables. "Do they have cheerios?"

"We're half way across the globe Quistis, and you can't think of anything more exotic to eat than _cheerios_?" Rinoa poked at a greenish slab of meat with her fork.

"At least I can trust my cheerios. Tell me what you think that is," she gestured to the meat being harassed.

"Looks digested already," offered Irvine.

"Gee, thanks," muttered Rinoa as she moved onto the next spot.

Once seated, Irvine immediately rose after being treated with Rinoa's 'pleading eyes' and a request for coffee.

"Me, too," mentioned Quistis while pouring her milk pouch into a plastic bowl of little round 'o's.

Irvine pushed in his seat and pointed to Quistis with squinted eyes. "Decaf for you and… regular?" Rinoa nodded vigorously.

When he had placed himself well across the room, Rinoa turned to Quistis and lowered her head ambiguously. "Where do you suppose we find some of these 'school girl' outfits? Do they sell them at stores?"

Quistis stirred her spoon in the milk, pondering. "I don't believe so, but there should be extras in their lockers or something."

"Do Gardens have lockers?"

"No…"

"What about the dorms?" Rinoa smirked. "There should be an extra pair or two in one room, don't you think?"

"Oh, good idea," grinned Quistis. "One problem."

"What's that?"

"Irvine's the only one of us that knows how to pick locks."

"Shoot, you're right," Rinoa forked her scrambled eggs in thought. "I still don't think we should bring him with us. He'd be a kid in a candy store; a disaster waiting to happen."

"True," stated Quistis, lost in thought as well. Her eyes suddenly lightened up as new resolution began. "It can't be that hard. Just give me a paper clip and I can probably do it too."

"It's worth a try," agreed Rinoa.

"What's worth a try?" asked Irvine as he set two cups of coffee down.

"Oh, thank you so much! Um, which one's mine?" Rinoa looked into both cups apprehensively.

Irvine pursed his lips and gazed into the cups as well. "I'll be damned," he growled. "Hold on."

"Irvine?" Quistis stopped him. "Put some cream in mine so you know next time, okay?" she winked. He smiled in response and moved back to the coffee filters.

"I don't think you need a paper clip," Rinoa said lowly.

"Huh?" Quistis looked up from her bowl.

"I think he has a kit in his jacket somewhere," Rinoa reached over onto Irvine's chair where he had left his coat draped over. "One of these…" she fumbled inside all the pockets. "Ah, here it... Oh!" she pulled out her hand to reveal a long, rusty, and nearly broken paperclip. Rinoa frowned.

"So the secret's revealed," laughed Quistis. "Some kit, eh?"

"Well hell," whined Rinoa.

"Here he comes. Take it or leave it," warned Quistis. Rinoa hastily sat back and stuffed the clip into her pant pocket.

"Think it's right this time," chuckled Irvine as he set down a new set of coffees. "What's the guilty look for, Rinoa?"

"What look? You're crazy," she grappled for her coffee and took a lingering gulp. "I think it's time to go," she whipped her mouth. You can eat on the train, Irvine."

**BB**

"Mine doesn't fit! I could hide more with a dish towel."

"I think it's rather flattering. Compared to what you usually wear," Irvine grinned mischievously at Rinoa.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that if you show a little more flesh on a regular basis, you might attract something more than your father's approval."

"Well, excuse me for not pimpin' around the streets like some dazzling gift of the gods," roared Rinoa in return.

"Is that what you wish for? To be something as great as me?"

"I _wish _I had Quistis's outfit," Rinoa shot the silently observant Quistis a fatal glare.

"Don't bring me into this," she stated with a deep voice barred within her caution's pressing. "You got first choice."

"Did not!" protested Rinoa defiantly as she jut her jaw out in stubbornness. This usual gesture only further proved her lie. "Well I didn't want the girly-girl suit. It just wasn't my taste."

"You had your choice of about twenty different outfits. Hell, we're lucky we found these in the clean part of the laundry room. I don't think Irvine's paperclip would have worked anyway."

"My paperclip?" asked Irvine, bemused. "Oh, you mean this?" He reached into the pockets of his pants and shirt, delving to find the lost article. "Where did it go? That was my good one, too."

Rinoa forced herself to restrain from the laughter building in her throat. "C'mon, let's go before anyone gets too suspicious." The three walked up the steps leading into the monstrous city-school known as Trabia Garden.

Quistis stood from the curb outside the gates of the Garden. She wore the casual student attire, consisting of an above-knee grey skirt and a white blouse with a delicate, yellow bow placed under her chin. She had her golden locks tied into two high pigtails, slightly uneven. Most of her makeup had been rubbed off, yet her features still held an intelligent and whimsical veil that no mere 'student' could possess. "Are you ready?" she gave a wink.

"Yup," Rinoa responded with a barely noticeable lift of her brow. She was dressed similarly to Quistis, but the outfit she had acquired held a remarkable resemblance to something you'd find on a life-size doll... which always seemed to _never _be life size. If she had to bend over the slightest bit, all self-pride would be shattered from both views above and behind. Her hair was lazily pulled into a floppy ponytail that shed wisps from its grasp every so often. "I should have brought some shorts," she mumbled beneath her breath.

Irvine held back from the other two, watching in wonderment how two professional assassins could so easily disguise themselves as charming, innocent students of a regular society. He was struck with not only the jealously of being submerged by the throng of young, tender thighs, but of being an oblivious boy. He sighed deeply, releasing the pent up breath his lungs so restlessly held. From now until he was called on his cell, he was free to explore the surroundings outside the Garden. 'Not much,' he thought as he glanced around the few lifeless buildings and endless forest. Not to mention it was getting colder every passing moment.

**BB**

Autumn was officially here, but summer had not completely fled. The climate was unpredictably stuck between blistering hot and stinging cold. There was no third way about it, for the comfortable cool that the fall season bares was nowhere to be found. Trabia, plotted far north of the equator, often held warm days, despite its being known for heavy snows. Citizens of the city and the Garden were unsure of what to wear on basis, seeing as how the temperature was becoming indecisive.

The Garden itself held most of its classes and rooms indoor where both the heater and air conditioning took charge of the climate. It wasn't uncommon for students to be trapped inside for weeks at a time during mid-winter. Entrance gates were replaced by sky-high doors, thick as an outstretched arm. Outside walls were grey with stone and cement, but flourished with intricate carvings and statues. The actual Garden was made of a matching grey and blue, but was smoothed by metal curves. Fountains gushed water in every hall, graced from their cherub innocence or deity dominance.

Rinoa and Quistis tread into the area with aspiring awe. They knew the Gardens were expensive and fancy... but this was beyond. It wasn't mansion or castle descriptive, but the technology and domed walls seemed to grin with wicked expenses. "I guess they make a successful business here," stated Quistis while sizing up the high arched entrances into the actual building.

Rinoa touched a wall and ran her fingertips over the flawless construction. "Just image how much it costs to get into here. It must really put a dent into your account." Three girls pushed past Rinoa, each looking her up and down with utter disgust. They turned and kept walking with snide giggles. "Or you were a spoiled brat from the start," added Rinoa in their direction.

Further into the Garden it appeared to be more of a school. A directory was placed before a grand fountain, sporting the beauty of the mystical guardian force, Shiva. "Where do you suppose we start?" wondered Rinoa aloud while she gazed admirably at the structure.

"No clue," responded Quistis with the same expression toward the directory.

"Suppose we split up…"

"No!" snapped Quistis a little too harshly.

"Geez, alright. What's up with you all of a sudden?"

"Just…I don't know. I don't like it here. Never did."

"Never did?" Rinoa looked back over to Quistis questioningly. "You've been here before?" The blonde refused to answer, staring blankly at the directory. "Hello? What's wrong?" tried Rinoa again.

"Here. We start here."

Rinoa let out a long, exasperated sigh. "You always leave everyone out of the loop. You can be such a mope sometimes, you know? Imagine being in my place for once. It's kinda irritating."

Quistis fixed Rinoa with a stern, yet understanding glare. "Listen Miss Happy-go-Lucky, just because you've never had a secret doesn't mean you shouldn't understand what it's like to explain bad instances. Besides, we have much more important matters at hand. While we sit here arguing over past events, this man could be escaping under our noses without our notice."

'_The longer we spend here, the quicker he's moving away.'_

"I know, but you really worry me Quistis. Ever since we got ourselves into this mess, you've not only been painfully grouchy, but quiet and reserved. Just say something once in a while. Tell you what, I'll make you a deal."

"Rinoa…"

"I'll shut up about it for the rest of the time we're here and when we get out, I'll take you and I out to dinner. My treat," Rinoa winked. "One catch, while we're out you have to explain some of yourself. Do we have a deal?"

"Rinoa, this is ridiculous."

"Do we?"

"Alright, fine," Quistis breathed. "Now can we just hurry to get out of here. Look, here's the main stairwell," she pointed to a long column on the directory screen. "They aren't going to put files of SeeDs in the office. I wouln't think so at least. Most high-class schools and colleges have basements for really important files and documents. Gardens most likely do as well, so we have a nice bet checking down there first."

"There's bound to be millions of files down there," Rinoa whined.

"Hopefully, the SeeDs will be excluded from the main bunch. We'll have to move to the back of the room first. But our immediate issue is getting down there without being caught."

"Well standing here isn't getting us there any faster. Let's go, I can see the elevator from here."

**BB**

"There _are_ millions down here!" Rinoa rubbed her eyes in desponding surprise. After spending three trips up and down the elevator, the two had finally been left alone and able to get into the below ground floors. Then there was the trip with the old, musty janitor and spending five minutes at least staring at each other silently and with suspicious eyes. Then was the voyage back up to drop him off on the first floor. Another two trips with students up to the second floor, and the two women at long last made it down to the basement.

Quistis glanced at her watch. "It's nearly five already and we haven't found anything."

"Just be glad we didn't run into any more students, otherwise they wouldn't attend school for the rest of today and maybe tomorrow."

"Stop it and be serious here. If we had done anything, they would have only further gotten in the way."

'_They obviously don't know and there's no point in scaring the shit out of them if all they'll do is lie.'_

"You said in the back, right?" Rinoa gestured to the farthest wall. "Let's check it out."

**BB**

"How long have we been down here? It's starting to get really hot," Rinoa clenched her clammy palms together tenderly. "I hate feeling sticky."

"Here! I found them!"

"Thank the heavens. Where were they?"

"Right under this pile." Quistis gripped a thick stack of papers in one hand while pushing back a towering mountain of them that stood on top. "You'd think they'd be a little more organized. C'mon," she prompted and finally yanked the papers free. The whole previous stack spewed and fluttered in all directions, landing in a thin layer over the whole tile floor.

"Oops," Rinoa knelt down to help gather up the fallen mess.

"Don't worry about it. What we need is right here. 'Past and Present Record of SeeD – Trabia Garden.' See, it's all right here," Quistis smiled.

"Oh. How long do you think it'll take us to look through all of those?"

"I wouldn't think too long," the blonde weighed the stack in her right hand, judging its size of about three hundred pages. "We just need to eliminate all that don't use the gunblade as their primary weapon. Despite that's all we know about this guy, the weapon He uses isn't too common. Then we take out any remaining females and lastly compare fingerprints. At least I think they have their prints in here," she flipped through a few pages. "Yeah, and from the looks of it, each SeeD has about three pages to them. We'll be done in no time."

"I sure hope you're right," Rinoa sat on the paper-covered ground and rested her back against one of the filing cabinets. "Here, sit down so I can help. My legs are starting to hurt." Quistis sat herself across from her companion and dropped the stack she held in the middle of the two. Rinoa worked on collecting all the papers that were and could possibly be in use of the gunblade, while Quistis handed her all the male suspects from the main stack. The work was diligent and relentless, their title of being professional coming into play. The nearby clock read ten after seven and the janitor's sweeps may have been at random on his schedule. He had been unsure of the two women at first, looking them up and down under bushy grey eyebrows, but surely if they were caught again, the price wouldn't be so forgiving.

So now fingers bruised without notice and eyes ached with little care. The immediate response was to continue the search without pause. To not find Him here would eliminate one of the three Gardens. To find Him would seize the world journey and captivate this Garden menace. The National Guard had enough power to evict certain students, so long as the reason was evident and the other two Gardens were in agreeable judgment.

The Gardens rarely worked in alliance, finding needed resources in competition with one another. Power was the essence of money and money was the cost of all imports. That and hired work, of course. But a job could be a fatality and the stakes were not always as genuine as the reward they represented. Many men and women of the SeeD program are lost each month, so the Gardens continuously fight for the youth they require. Each holds their own propaganda of competition, rising one above the other due to various elements and Garden advantages. Therefore, every youth was accepted and trained to full capacity in career of the Garden facilities. Often, the orphanages would donate, child him or herself accepting this condemned fate, to widen the shelter for further unwanted children.

**BB**

Quistis's scan was brought to an immediate halt as she read a name she had hoped to never read again. Vivid images flooded her head despite all its attempts to block out the memories. 'Tilmitt, Selphie – currently in use' read the top of the sheet. The hands that held it shoot uncontrollably and sweat beaded at Quistis's forehead.

"What is it?" asked Rinoa slowly, though the question had gone unnoticed.

_Tilmitt. Rank...six malignant note...Garden position unknown.... Mission 25, Class 6: Failure. Cold Case Reading: 52. Case numbers 46 through 52....Suspected... left... garden... activist... cold case... body's burial... location number 46, 47, 48, 49... left ...garden facility... computer generator... six victims... suspected, assumed... suspected. Suspected. Tilmitt._

"It's her," whispered Quistis with tears brimming.

"What? Who?" Rinoa laid her hand on Quistis's shoulder in confusion and concern. She looked down at the sheet that her friend gripped so dreadfully. "Selphie… Tilmitt?"

"They said she died. Three years ago. It was a lie," now tears streamed down rosy cheeks. "They _lied_."

"Who lied? C'mon Quistis, clue me in," Rinoa had now seated herself next to Quistis, draping her arm over her friend's shoulders. Quistis took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "Quistis, let's just find what we're looking for and get out of here, okay?"

"We've already found it."

"What do you mean? You made me look through all of those papers over there only to tell me I was looking for the wrong thing?" Rinoa teased.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't know she had gone… no, she _goes_ here. If she's here, then He's not."

"Who is she?"

"Can we just leave, please?" Quistis pushed herself to her feet. "That dinner is sounding nice about now. And we don't need a worried Irvine to come looking for us."

"You're right, let's go."

**BB BB**

A/N: Sorry all for any confusion for switching this chapter with the previous third one. I read it over and just found it appalling. It's kind of funny when you look that I pretty much contradicted everything that I had written in this chapter before. Once again, sorry for taking so long to update. R and R please!


	4. Spider's Message

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or scenes of Final Fantasy VIII. All that all belongs to the dedicated employees of SquareEnix._

Hey everyone! My apologies for taking a while to update. Like I've stated before, this is a hard year of school, so I've really been focused on my studies more than other tidbits like this. I've spent some time thinking this chapter over, and finally set myself upon an actual storyline of some sort. I think it really begins within this chapter, so hurray for my development! YAY!

IttanMomen: Thank you for all your wonderful and prompting reviews. If it's not to just get you off my back, then I write simply because your dedication deserves it. Thank you again.

Anonymous reviewer 'Just a Friend': Yes, I did make Rinoa a bit rash in the first chapter, especially because she's a professional. I just couldn't help myself seeing Rinoa as being her usual whining self, but this time with a weapon. I'm trying to develop her character to being both spoiled and impulsive. (She was more so the former in the game, hehehe.) Anywho, if it's really bothering you too much, I hope you find some solace when Irvine mentions her problem and his disapproval of it. His comment was added to emphasize how unprofessional her actions were. I hope I cleared that up a bit for you.

One more thing: if you're reading this anew, I've changed some things. After completing the outline for this story (finally) I decided I didn't need any OC characters... so I destroyed them. Actually, The end bit is exactly the same, only the two characters were changed to Ward and Kiros. Go ahead and read it if it's bothering you that much, but nothing in the story has changed besides that. And I swear to make no more mistakes throughout this story! Sorry!

Happy reading!

BBBBBB

Chapter 4: Spider's Message

_Ours is a world of nuclear giants and ethical infants. We know more about war that we know about peace, more about killing that we know about living. -Omar N. Bradley_

BBBB

The sun shimmered high above in the clearing sky of morning, the rays striking the earth with its first breath of warmth. Thoughts reflected between the crystallized colors that bent through the glass of the train's window. Squall sat with his head resting against the hard clear surface, absently studying how the scenery twisted at the corners of the window's curve. Only one week was left to himself they had said, before he would be called in to take care of some political issues that had been transpiring within the docking companies at Dollet. Squall wasn't stupid, nor were those who managed his occupation. They had told him what his next objective would be knowing perfectly well that, despite his sour attitude and lack of blissful dedication, he would take most if not all his vacation to investigate the job. It was an order never spoken, but distinctly implied.

Squall let out a long sigh, taking a moment to feel the compressed emptiness in his chest before inhaling a new breath. He moved his thoughts away from the ever-present stress of work and searched his mind for something, anything, to divert his attention. Nothing. It was startling to realize the contrasts of what emptiness felt like comparing his mind to how his chest had been only moments before. Lack of oxygen left him in tight recoil, waiting for the time when it was necessary to continue the cycle of breathing. It was heavy and burdensome. In his mind, though, the oblivion was vast and absorbing. To hold onto the nothingness was to become addicted to its pleasant beckoning. Unlike the need to suck in air after only seconds, Squall felt comfort in knowing he would never really have to return to other thoughts. But he did. He always did. Now was the time to avoid asking himself why, as was the next part of the routine in his daydreaming. Life seemed to hold so little meaning. Yet it moved onward, pressing at Squall's blistered heels and pulling from his numb arms.

Crystal blue eyes cracked back open from previously being held tightly shut. The passing landscapes outside blurred together with the increased speed of the train and the tired eyes that despondently tried to capture individual objects. The eyelids slid back together, this time softly, as Squall attempted searching his mind for reverie again. He vaguely wondered why it was so hard to find something in his life beyond the distasteful job he carried out year after year. It was almost as if he had known no other existence but dealing with mercenaries and industrial problems. He fought hard to see into a past that seemed to never belong to him. It was difficult to determine whether he deserved it once or was deprived of what he really needed. Were his long years of vigorous training and arduous assignments what hardened his senses, or was his natural personality what made him perfect for the job? These thoughts were beyond such a young mind, despite its constant inquiry and relentless quest for knowledge. Instead, a familiar voice with a hushed rasp scolded him from the deepest corners of his mind. It was always there, especially when Squall attempted to hide in the vacancy of his thoughts. It was the one and only reason he left every time, fleeing false comfort to return to the painful realities of life. The voice chided him now as it always did, giving him doubts and sometimes making him a nervous wreck. Nobody would know from the outside, as Squall held a brick façade before his true self. It was all he could do to stay sane.

Sleep swiftly overthrew the voice though, and Squall slipped into the only true happiness he knew. The usual routine of dreams took over.

"_Hey! What are you doing?" _

_The young boy looked up from where he crouched by the frame of an open door. "Nuthin'," he protested and stood quickly. His small hand reached behind him to pull the heavy wooden door shut. The sun's light was cut off and shadow stole upon the interior of the room. _

"_Don't lie to me," warned the older girl, walking over to the boy and kneeling in from of him. "Show me what you were doing. I can see that guilty look in you eye, mister."_

"_It's nothing, really," the boy, no older than seven, still tried to seem convincing. He turned to open the door a crack, letting a thin stream of light back onto the tile flooring. He then pointed to the inner edge of the small porch. "Jus' killed a spider and threw it outside, that's all." The boy closed the door again and looked back to the girl hovering over him. Her face was stern, but her eyes were cloudy as she searched the boy's face, as if trying to find the right words. She then sat down on the floor and scooted over to the nearest wall, patting the floor beside her. The boy came over slowly and took a seat next to her, knowing he was in for some sort of a lecture. Oh, how he dreaded these._

"_Listen," she sighed, "I know it's not that big of a deal, I don't even like spiders that much, but stop and think for a moment. Where was it?"_

"_The spider?" asked the boy incredulously. The girl nodded and put her hand on the boy's matted brown hair. "I found it here, right by the door. Why?"_

"_Did it bite you?"_

"_No…"_

"_Did it come after you?"_

"_No…"_

"_But is scared you, didn't it?"_

"_I guess," the boy concentrated on the girl's face, truly confused. "I don't know what you mean."_

"_Just because something scares you doesn't mean you have to kill it," the older one tried to explain._

"_But it coulda bit me! Or you!"_

"_But it didn't, right?" the girl remained ever patient and merely smiled warmly at the young boy. "Spiders do a lot more good than you think. They'll eat all the nasty bugs that can make you sick. Did you know that?"_

"_Yeah," whined the boy as he tried to pull the older one's arm off his head. "We learned that in school a long time ago."_

_The girl ignored him and continued on with a sense of self-pride, "If you weren't so stupid, you would have put it outside," she shoved him teasingly. _

"_If you weren't so dumb, then… then… you wouldn't tell me to do something as dumbly as that," the boy tried to retort._

"_That doesn't make any sense," the girl hardly contained her laughter. "Well, we've just pulled within range of Dollet so please gather all your personal belongings and be prepared to disembark in five minutes."_

Squall's eyes shot open in surprise. The present was brought back to him as his dream slowly drifted into the category of pointless moments in his life. Before he knew it, the whole dream had vanished, only unconcerned wisps remained. They were disregarded immediately and Squall focused his attention on his current situation. He looked out his window to see an endless expanse of the ocean. Cargo ships were silhouetted on the far horizon. The train itself ran near the edge of a cliff, teasing the doom of its depths with deft travel over the terrain. Up ahead, stretched out into the ocean some distance, laid the city of Dollet. A docking community it was indeed. Perhaps more than half the city bordered along the shore, piers holding as many structures as the heart of the city.

Squall scowled out of irritation. This wasn't his first time in Dollet, and it probably wouldn't be his last. The city was one of the cores to the criminal economy and proved vital to the main businesses and illegal industries. All financial or political issues couldn't be resolved by officials, so formed major dents in the easy flow of open markets and economy. SeeDs were potential commoners in Dollet's region, having to keep an eye on the imports as well as social confrontations. Gardens would be a major program to suffer should the criminal economy go into ruins or even dilemma.

The train pulled into the station in more or less five minutes. It came to a surprisingly silent halt and bright green lights flashed over the exits. The electronic doors made a _swoosh_ in unison as they opened on either side. The public shuffled their way out of the train, Squall among them.

The day had moved into early evening sometime during the trip. Most of Dollet's businesses were just opening up to the public. Lights flickered on over the long cobblestone streets, reflecting in the shallow puddles gathered by the curbs. The town square's massive fountain possessed its own lighting as well, shifting the water into shimmering crimsons and yellows. The orange-rimmed sky was littered with thin, streaking clouds that shifted ever so slightly in the western breeze. The ocean beyond glimmered peacefully as seagulls flocked onto the piers to retire for the night. Foghorns roared in the distance, making notice of the ships' return and the stock they held for seafood restaurants.

Squall took all this in with one sweep of his eyes as he stepped into the center of town. The stars blinked on one by one, pushing evening into even further depths. Shop signs flickered to life and the SeeD lazily trudged over to the immense hotel behind the fountain.

BB

Inside the hotel room laid a small round desk, two single beds, a counter with a sink, and a connecting bathroom. The wall lamps were already lit when Squall entered the room and cast a soft yellow glow onto the carved furniture. The burgundy wallpaper enveloped the room in a crimson tranquility and comfort. He seemed to always get this room.

Squall's immediate notice went straight to the desk at the end of the room. The drapes behind it shifted softly in the breeze of the open window. On the desk was placed a small brown piece of paper.

The SeeD walked over to the table and inspected the note before opening it. The paper was dark and thick, like that of a grocery bag from downtown. It was crumpled up into a small ball and ripped hastily at the edges. Squall took care to unfold the paper without tearing it further. On the inside was a haphazardly scribbled note that read:

_They know where you are._

_Eat dinner then go to bed._

Squall crushed the paper again and threw it in the trash basket nearby. The note may have been vague, but it was still to be taken seriously. The code could easily be mistaken, but its intentions were written clearer than the note itself had been. The writing was sloppy enough to where he couldn't tell who wrote it, but it was a colleague without doubt. He tried to recall who was on business in Dollet during this time of the year, but the names he could remember did not seem familiar to him. There was the possibility of anyone from his Garden to have come to simply leave the note, too. Squall decided it best to just follow the note's guidance and leave as soon as his business here was done.

Stressful thoughts began forming in Squall's mind and the voice was hardly noticeable, but there nonetheless. Squall's best intentions at the moment were to take a quick shower, plan out his actions pertaining to the next day, and get some much-needed sleep.

BB

"So he knows now, what do suppose he'll do about it?"

The man across the table merely grimaced, the wrinkles under his eyes amplified by the dim pub lights. He reached into his dark jacket and pulled out two cigarettes and a lighter. He offered one to the man across from him and, after a refusal, put the cigarette down on the grimy table. He then pulled loose bangs out of his eyes and propped his cigarette loosely on his lips, lighting it soon after. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then tilted his head back slightly and watched the smoke billow out with his exhale. "Dunno," he replied simply.

Both men were dressed darkly, one in a suit and the other in a long trench coat. The one with the suit had darker, more glossy skin. The other man had fair skin and a distinct scar running the full length of the side of his face. This man was taller and obviously wider, though hardly noticeable by his hunched position in the booth at which both men sat. The man with darker skin wasn't much shorter, but possessed a younger, more anxious face. The taller one held a disposition of brute arrogance, his lower lips protruding slightly with seeming dominance.

"That's what ya always say," sighed the larger man as he picked up the beer bottle before him and swirled the remaining liquid inside. "I have a hard time believin' you though."

The man with the cigarette grinned again, pulling another long breath of the smoke before letting it go. "That's the jest of it," his voice was throaty and low. "I don't care how he responds, as long as he gets his ass outta here. Then there's nothing to worry about."

"Suppose he disregards it."

"Nah, he's not so stupid as to take something like that lightly. Even if he questions it, he'll have to wonder after he leaves. It's too short of notice for anything else, I'd suspect."

"Are you positive the girl's coming here?" the man took a swallow of liquor.

"Mmhmm," nodded the thinner man, reaching into another pocket of his coat to retrieve a small cell phone. He punched a few buttons then held the receiver to his ear. A moment passed before the younger man could distinguish talking on the other line.

"Hello?" asked a burly voice.

The shorter man put his cigarette to the edge of his mouth, but responded before inhaling. "He's got the note."

"Good work," stated the other end.

There was a pause before either spoke. "Ward here wants to make sure the girl's coming," the man with the cigarette looked over to his companion with a devilish smirk.

"Of course she is! What does he take me for, some kind of pompous fool? Don't you think I'd know my own daughter?" the voice snared.

"Just makin' sure, that's all. Don't take no offense, yeah?"

"Don't sass me Mr. Seagul. I do not appreciate your attitude. I want you to just keep him away from the girl at all costs, do you hear me?"

"Mm," the man with the cigarette breathed with a slight chuckle.

"And I don't want to hear another question out of you until he's left the city!" The phone line cut off.

"Well that about sums it up," the shorter man took one more puff before twisting the ashy tip into the mahogany table.

"How long before she's here? In your opinion?" the other man finished his beer.

"That's not really the question. It's how long until this guy's gone."

BBBBBB

A/N: Thanks everyone for surviving with me for another chapter! It's been great fun and I'll be looking forward to the reviews. I'm open to all comments and I promise I'll try to get the next chapter out as quickly as I can. Thanks!


	5. Faltering Nations

__

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VIII or any of the characters! Yay for poverty!

A/N: Wow, its been a while since I've updated this story. But guess what people, I finally wrote an outline for it! At least it's an outline in progress (still needs some touch ups). So hopefully, unlike my other stories, there will be points to everything! And the chapters should be longer too! Double yay!

I changed the last chapter just a bit to fit within the outline. I'll tell ya'll now so you don't go reading it for no reason. The two little OC characters I had? Yeah, remember those creepy guys at the end of the chapter? I killed them. With a pitchfork. And I birthed Kiros and Ward in their place. That sounds pretty disturbing.

So basically, everything is the same, even the conversation... but alas! The characters are the only things that have been changed!

Anyway, I'll be looking forward to feedback! Remeber kiddies, there is now a point to everything!

Chapter 5: Faltering Nations

The hotel curtains did little to shade the morning glare and prevent the curses that escaped Squall's dry lips. The SeeD rolled over, pulling the mass of covers along with him. His eyes cracked open as he glared menacingly at the digital clock that read 7:06.' He gave a throaty sigh and resisted the urge to stuff his head into his pillow and scream.

Just a walk down to the piers and I'm out of here...' he mentally repeated to himself as his body struggled to get up and off the mattress. He shuffled his way to the bathroom and proceeded to take a shockingly cold shower and arrange his few belongings.

The shower was short and sweet, Squall not feeling he deserved a moment more of being drenched in the icy water. He exited the bathroom and grimaced as a flowery scent followed him out into the room. Hesitantly, he ran a hand through his dripping hair and brought the fingertips to his nose. Damn shampoo.'

BBBBBB

Squall walked down the few hotel steps and breathed in the refreshing salt air. It gave him a giddy sense of freedom, yet it only caused his demanding bonds to become more obvious. His eyes closed momentarily as he tried to forget the strain on his spirit and let his mind wander away from the pressure and stress of his daily life. A distant fog horn roared and immediately woke Squall from the day-dream. He furrowed his brows and scanned the city plaza for signs of life, and oddly enough, none were to be found. Strange, even at this hour, for the people of Dollet to refuse the morning's welcome and roam the streets for early bird specials and untainted air. Squall had been assigned visits to Dollet many a times, but he could not recall seeing the streets so empty, especially this close to the district of shops and commerce.

The SeeD wandered down a cobblestone sidewalk, gazing subtly into shop windows and houses. His frown deepened when he saw few residence in each and most doors hanging ajar and forgotten. Squall made his way to the half-hidden pub, which still flickered with some human existence.

Inside there was a thick haze of cigarette smoke and dour moods. Few people sat relaxed in corners, empty beer bottles clustered on tables in front of them. Squall walked up to the bar and took a seat at a stool near the end, catching the barkeep's eye.

"Squall!" hollered the burly man, grinning from ear to ear. "Why are you in here? A little early to end yer day, no?"

The SeeD shot the man a pleading look and sighed with exasperation.

"Ahh, I'm just pushin' yer buttons now aren't I?" laughed the barkeeper. "What am I complaining for anyway? Business is business. So, what'll it be? The usual?"

Squall shook his head and rested both elbows on the faded wood of the bar. "Just a beer, please."

"Yes sir," smiled the barkeep with light jest. He set a mug in front of Squall, the beer's froth surmounting the mug's capacity and flowing freely over the rim and onto the counter. "Save me the sob-story Squall and tell me something I don't know, will ya? Cus I know it's coming."

"You know all there is to know," Squall gripped the icy handle and brought the edge of the mug to his lips, sniffing lightly. "The quality of this crap is only sinking, Sampson. I hope they open a new bar before you start selling water."

"Well aren't we a little grouchy," Sampson wiped his hands with a towel and leaned against the counter facing Squall. "But when aren't ya then?"

"I'm tired of being chained to this," Squall took a long swallow of the liquor. "This... this job and how much meaning it has to me. Hell, what did I do to deserve this, right? Shouldn't a man be free to choose his own fate?"

"I told you Squall, that I'd be hearin' that same story one way or another. Guess there's no preventing it then. Listen buddy, just because you confide in me doesn't mean I'm always open ears. Shit, that's why I give you a discount on my goods... so you can go cry on someone else's shoulder.

"But you're probably not here to hear me rambling either. That's why I don't tell ya," Sampson took a long look at Squall's miserable face and thought better of how to make a light atmosphere. "Well, you young people do have a lot more to do these days than I ever did. I'm not going to pre-judge you Squall, but stop moping and I think life will be far better for ya."

"Ah, bullcrap," Squall finished his beer and shoved the empty mug away bitterly. "If I start looking up, I'm bound to trip somewhere along this road that has been layed out before me. I would have thought _he's_ done enough to ruin my life."

"You make up your own life, young sir. I don't think you realize that. And when you do, I'll treat ya to the whole saloon here. Besides, somehow I think you've got the whole perspective on things wrong," the bartender shook his head sympathetically. "Don't misjudge what I'm tellin' ya, but I think you're just afraid to admit what really happened. Aren't you? And you and I know damn well that if you're stubborn ass wants to control your own life bad enough, nobody is stopping you!"

Squall shot the barkeep a deadly stare, then lowered his eyes to the mug, shifting and waving it at Sampson. "One more," he said lowly.

"Uh-uh, not this early. Something tells me you still have a day ahead of you... and going through it drunk won't make the sun any brighter. Well... maybe it will... but that's not the kind of brightness you want. Trust me.

"By the by, young fella, word from earlier this mornin' is there's some ruckus going on down at the docks... your kind of platter. Now get outta my bar and I don't wanna see you until the sun is gone."

Squall knew he was right, for he himself still had the inspection to get through. But as soon as that was over, there were many things needed to be forgotten... even if for just one night. No, more than one night. He would need his toes to count how many evenings he'd spent drunk in some bar, just within the last month. It was almost disturbing how close he was becoming to the bartenders of each and every city he monitored.

Squall nodded absently and took his leave from the pub. Once outside he paused by the door and fished around the inside of his coat pockets for a pacifying collection of cigarettes, but stopped when he drew out a crumpled piece of paper.

The message from last night. Shit.

If people could only learn how to elaborate on subjects, this vague note included, then life could be steered with so much more ease. Instead, Squall had no idea what he was up against or why it seemed so important that he leave in haste. He snorted distastefully and shoved the note back into a random pocket, beginning his trek down the street and forgetting about the cigarette he had so craved moments before. Too many things clouded Squall's head for him to think straight, apparent in his shifty attitude and indecision of late.

The political system between the Gardens were wavering, disrupting the balance maintained between the military apex powers and competition of trade routes in the city zones near the Garden territories. Balamb sat atop from the crow's nest of the Garden delta and usually oversaw from a harmless viewpoint in which it never disturbed or was disrupted itself. However, Balamb's footing had somehow slipped, for reasons that only the Garden headmaster seemed to know, and the fragile relationship between the island-Garden and the other two had become jeopardized. The situation was currently in no means of a threat or was even threatened at the moment, but underground stirrings and revolts were beginning to conspire for some sort of final blow of which none of the Gardens could determine the full outcome of its velocity.

Somehow, unbeknownst to him, Squall had grown to be the center knot of the whole situation, or at least some vital recipe in the quivering interactions. His young intuition pushed him to be sought out by the highest of orders to carry out tasks that should have regularly been beyond his capability and maturity level. But the importance of the relationship and shouldered guilt prompted Squall to keep his mouth shut save the occasional Yes sir,' which only further demonstrated his potential to fulfill the demands of not only Balamb Garden, but _all_ the Gardens.

Esthar had not escaped the interaction between the futile bickering of the Gardens, being one of the largest and most advanced cities commercially and politically. By such coincidence, Esthar had its share in being the fault of the initial conflicts. However, their leader was a worthy adversary as well as a political asset to every city within the Garden nations. Some years ago, during the falling period of the Gardens, confrontations and wars were as much heated as they were _cold_. Despite the worrisome quality and damage of a cold war, it could be much appreciated when compared to violent, open warfare, which is typical of any Garden in threat.

It had been mentioned before, but only whispered into the loneliness of foreboding nights to one's self, that the Gardens maintained their peace and restrained from crashing through the already faltering wall of companionship because they reigned supreme as far as military powers... and there were _three_ Gardens. The unbalanced tip weighed upon the consciousness of the Garden headmasters, for the third Garden, whichever one might be so lucky as to be singled out, would doubtlessly ally with one or the other, depending upon the treaty's necessities and the requirement of resources available in a nation's terrain. The cold wars never stepped beyond their borders of violence for the fear that instead of being matched up against a single opposing Garden of equal power and probability of victory, there would soon sprout favoritism and twice as much of the opponent.

BBBBBB

Squall sighed irritably when two squabbling women pushed past him on the street and hurried down the beaten road. Something was definitely up, but how dramatic could it be for such a small town? The whole city would throw a fit if there was a single kitchen fire in a crumbling house in the older district. But Sampson was a man of no worries, and for him to suggest Squall's attention to something meant it was worth a look at least.

Up ahead the SeeD noted the docks and the empty piers as a mass horde of people clustered at the base of the street where the cobblestone met the wooden posts of a broken mast and brig, cleverly molded against the metallic border of the city's rims. Several ships swayed impatiently in the docks: two antique frigates, and one rusted bulk carrier, more commonly seen around Fisherman's Horizon and up north.

Squall's stride was no quicker upon sighting the apparent emergency. It was going to be another one of those days...

When the SeeD finally came within reach of some of the scattered public, he could detect their suspicious mumblings to one another. Men stood in groups of three or four, arms crossed, eyebrows quirked, all the while explaining the situation as if they had been the mastermind behind it. Women were grouped closer together in one pile, causing their conversations to mesh into one messy, skeptical, and nervous mount of gossip.

Squall approached with caution, for there was the distinct scent of fear among these people, and the sight of a SeeD could both relax and heat up the circumstances. Not that Squall was in any official uniform, but these people were close knit and Squall, despite his constant visits, would be clearly marked an outsider.

But nobody seemed to even notice Squall. He drew closer to the source of all the suspicion, squeezing past several groups to even get a glimpse. His eyes darkened and narrowed at the gruesome sight before him, for what he could see past the bobbling heads also trying to get a view was a murder of at least two people, both clearly attired in Galbadian military uniforms.

The hell is this?' he almost wondered aloud, beginning to forcefully get in through the curious citizens. In doing so he almost stumbled over another dead body, or at least part of one...

"What happened?"

Squall paused for a moment, looking to the assertive voice that spoke above everyone else. He frowned visibly when he spied the woman, strawberry -blonde hair pulled high on her scalp, posture imposing over the dead bodies, and brilliant blue eyes scanning the crowd for answers.

"Well?" she snarled, shaking visibly as she leaned forward to glare directly at a young man across from where Squall was still being swallowed by the throng.

"I... I don't know. They were here this morning when... when Captain Manson ca-came in," stammered the boy.

"And where's this Captain Manson?' What's he got to say about all this?" inquired Quistis.

"Right here," boomed a voice from behind, causing her to jump slightly. "And that's all there is too it, ya hear? I docked my ship this mornin' as I always do, carried the load with my crew into the stock rooms, then came back out and found these unfortunate souls here."

"Oh? That's a little ludicrous, don't you think? Especially from such a small city as Dollet?" Quistis turned, careful not to step on the bodies or blood in the process.

"And who might you be ma'am, to be askin' such intrusive questions, eh?" Manson crossed his arms, his burly face twisting into a frown. The crowd lapsed into silence. Manson was a large man, maybe in his late forties, but a diesel nonetheless. His smoky grey hair bristled from under a raggedy beany and busheled out at his chin and over his thin lips. His hazel eyes narrowed when he scanned the woman before him. "Say, you aren't one of them SeeDs, are ya?" his tone was dangerous.

Quistis swallowed and tried to keep her stature as strong as the bull she was confronting. "No, but what's it to you if I was?"

"Cus I want no trouble in this city, that's why! We got ourselves a nice, functioning, peaceful community workin' here and the last thing we need is those sniveling, mischievous, trouble-making, war-startin', ungrateful Garden folk comin' around here gettin' us in the middle of their own headaches." A few bystanders nodded hesitantly in agreement.

"Well this has nothing to do with Garden or SeeD," Quistis retorted. "I've spend the better half of a year looking for a cold-blooded murderer and I have good reason to suspect this is _his_ doing..."

Squall's heart skipped a beat and he suddenly shifted to anew part of the crowd. Really?' he pondered. Just _who_ is she looking for?' He raked his mind to remember the tidbits he had overheard back at Balamb Garden about the mass murderer who was becoming a political menace. This is just up my alley,' Squall thought miserably. He caught the fleeting desire to just forget he saw anything, but the obnoxious voice at the base of his mind laughed at such a rebellion.

The SeeD strolled stealthily into a gap between two people, giving him a closer perspecitve of the murder. By the looks of it there were two... and a half... dead. One body lay face down, the arms bent impossibly backward and twisted where the neck was snapped with force. There was no blood on this one. The others were merely a mass of limbs and organs. The third arm laying haphazard in a stream of blood gave away that there was a missing body.The lack of a head on the butchered corpse caught Squall's attention, but he let the thought go before he gagged himself. He wasn't usually queasy, especially around these types of things, but this particular sight gave him the urge to cry out in agony and rage. Squall let the panic in his heart rise, then fall before looking back to the scene.

They were definitely from a Galbadian base, but not from the Garden. What was the purpose of this? And was it whoever this impulsive woman was looking for that did it? Whatever side the coin landed on, it was bad news for Squall, especially if this made it to public news. It was never a blessing to find a murder, much less one with foreign officials on alien territory.

Squall sighed and fell back from the throng, still hearing the captain and the woman arguing over matters. The day had only started and it was already in the pit of hell.

I need a drink...'

BBBBBBBBB _The Night Prior_

Rinoa rubbed her temples as she sat in the bustling coffee shop. She sipped cautiously at the hot liquid in her styrofoam cup and studied the man across the table from her.

Irvine sat with his head resting in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other. His coffee lay forgotten in the center of the table as his eyes scanned the tiny print for any leads.

"Find anything?" asked Rinoa while blowing into her steaming cup.

"Mm," grunted Irvine. "Small city, small news. The front page is about an old lady finding twenty dollars in the sand behind her house. I mean, doesn't that just make you want to know what could be _more_ exciting past the front page?" Irvine stole a glance at Rinoa's quizzical look and then laughed lightly. "But no, not really. I haven't found anything much except here in the gossip pages. See? It tells rumors of Galbadia tension with Deling."

"It does?" Rinoa's interest was piqued. "What's it say?"

"Why are you so suddenly into politics?"

"What's it say about Deling?" Rinoa ignored him and continued to demand.

"I just told you. That's all it really says. Tension causes public to worry about standings between Deling City and Galbadia Garden...'"

"Go on, keep reading."

"Er... Yesterday, Caraway refused the amiable offer of Galbadian officials to find an agreement in public affairs-'"

"What?" Rinoa interrupted. "No he wouldn't. He's been wanting that for years now. I mean, I _thought_ he was. Or wasn't. You know, whatever the papers say you believe!" she laughed guiltily.

"Rinoa?"

"Yeah?" she asked bemused, as if she had been distracted.

"Is there something you want to share?"

"No..."

"Are you lying?"

"I don't want to share it, so no."

"Rinoa..."

"What?"

"Is there something I don't know about you and Deling City?"

"Of course not."

"I think there is."

"No there isn't."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Oh look, here comes Quistis!" Rinoa stood up with a sheepish grin and helped Quistis to seat herself, ignoring the glare that Irvine was giving her.

"What? Why are you being so nice?" Quistis slapped at Rinoa hands when she tried to smooth her shirt.

"I'm not! I'm always like this." Rinoa wanted to suddenly run away. She closed her eyes tight for a moment to regain herself. She had managed for months not to spill her secret about Caraway and her to Quistis and Irvine, and she almost blew it right now.

Rinoa knew they would find out sooner or later. She was actually expecting them to find out when they were in Deling, but it had been a lucky break to get away when they did. But here they were again, breaking in Dollet, within the Galbadian nation and all too close to Deling. Hopefully, there would be no visit to the nocturnal city this time around and they would take a direct route to Galbadia Garden.

She had prayed their group would check Balamb Garden next, seeing as how Trabia was in no way holding the SeeD they searched for, but rumors of Galbadia stirrings directed them back here. Maybe she could slip by without her companions ever knowing, for the longer she waited, the more dramatic the news would probably be.

"Rinoa, are you alive?" Quistis tapped her on the shoulder.

"I told you there was something up," sighed Irvine.

Rinoa flinched into reality. "Huh? What?"

"We were making plans for tomorrow when you totally zoned out."

"Oh, sorry... I'm just really tired."

Quistis arched an eyebrow. "I can see that. Why don't you go back to the hotel and we'll tell you what's up in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," smiled Rinoa as she stood, bringing her coffee to her lips again. "I'm sorry."

BBBBBBB

Rinoa was too exhausted to pause and enjoy the delectable scenery of Dollet in its twilight hours. Her eyes studied the intricate designs of the ground instead as her feet carried her none too slowly to the awaiting hotel.

Inside, Rinoa hesitated to finish and throw away her coffee cup. She took this time to scan the interior, but her eyes quickly rested on a single soul who stood with slouched posture by the lobby's front desk. She let her tired eyes roam the length of his form then let them settle on this piercing blue eyes, which shifted irritably from key to key as the woman at the desk fumbled for the right one. He had a scowl across this face, but Rinoa found herself having a hard time not admitting that that only added to his perfectly chiseled features. There was something almost _familiar_ about him, but she couldn't quite place what it was.

Rinoa quickly glanced away when he turned her direction and she focused her eyes on a random painting on the wall. She suddenly felt very much like a ten year old again, tasting the danger of innocent flattery and infatuation. Why not,' she convinced herself, Not like I'll ever see him again.' Her chocolate eyes slyly directed themselves back at the man, who now appeared rather vexed with no attempt to hide his annoyance. His lips moved, but the voice was too low for Rinoa to hear. Instead she heard the lobby-lady's embarrassed chuckle and loud reply: "You know how it is with all these keys!"

Probably not,' giggled Rinoa to herself. She was amazed at her own brazen ability to size up this man across from the room. What was wrong with her? Since when was she like this? She never ogled men. Especially when they looked like the grumpy, conceded, aloof kind. But she still could drag her eyes from his sharp features, tossed brown hair, and lean form. Stop it!' she warned herself before hurrying up the hotel stairs to her room, stealing one last glimpse before he disappeared from her view completely.

In her bed, Rinoa laughed at how childish her actions were, and soon forgot what had caused her to act so in the first place.

BBBBBBB

"Wake up, you bear!"

"Mm Mmmm..." Rinoa shifted.

"Wake. Up!" _Swoof!_

Rinoa reached out and grappled for the pillow that had just been thrown rather harshly onto her head. "Whaaaaat?" she whined.

"Get up. We've got a long day and I want it over with ASAP. Besides, Irvine is running in circles downstairs like a dog to go get some food. And he might come in here if I tell him that _I _can't get you up..."

"Okay okay," groaned Rinoa.

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"I could've stayed in bed..."

"What do you mean? There's lots you can do."

"Like what? Sit here? Gee, that _is_ a lot."

"No, go out and ask around. That's what we're doing." Irvine grinned wide.

"Yeah, so I'll read that whole newspaper that you thought was so exciting last night!" Rinoa teased.

"All I know is that I'm tired of hearing you two bicker," called Quistis from down the street. "I'm going, so we'll meet later by the lobby. Bye!"

"Where's she off to so fast?" asked Rinoa, rubbing her tired eyes.

"The docks I suppose. She said she heard some woman going on about an incident down there."

"It figures that she'd run as fast as she could to get the juicy stuff. How selfish..." Rinoa crossed her arms.

"Listen Rin, I'm going down to the other districts. Feel free to join me, but I'm just asking for leads and checking other papers."

"Ah, no thanks. I'm not really upset about sitting around. In fact, I'll probably fall asleep in the coffee shop again."

"Okay then. Give me a call or I'll call you if anything is up, okay?"

"Sure." Rinoa watched as headed down the street and looked at her over his shoulder to wave. "Sure..."

Finally, now I can get some real answers,' She smirked and strode in the general direction of the pub.

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Squall swung the saloon's door open, stepping into the cool interior with a relieved sigh. Such solace could only be found here. He caught Sampson's eye when he looked up and noted the disapproving shake of his head.

"I told ya if you wanted something bad enough nobody will stop ya," the bartender grabbed a mug as Squall took his seat in the same stood as earlier.

"I did what I had to do."

"And what was that?"

"Took a nice walk down to the docks and back..."

"How bad was it?" Sampson asked timidly.

"Bad. You knew?" Squall grabbed the overflowing mug from the barkeeper's large hands.

"Only the rumors."

"Yeah..."

"So just bad?"

"No. Really bad."

"What kind of bad?"

"The kind that's bad for me... and Dollet... and the Gardens... and everything else that's spinning like a top right now as far as government issues."

"Ah," Sampson smiled sadly and began wiping the counters with a wet towel. "That _is _bad." He watched as Squall nearly finished his beer in one swallow then came to sit next to him. "Lemme get a look at ya, boy."

Squall turned his head slightly, scowling at Sampson. "I don't remember the definition of boy,'" Squall growled.

"Stop being a such a prick," the bartender ignored the daggers being shot at him. "I see a boy right here: childish, whiny, spoiled, and... drunk. Getting there at least."

"Whatever."

"Lose those circles under your eyes and you'll be more of a boy too."

"I didn't say I wanted to _be_ a boy."

Sampson laughed. "Of course not! You hardly say anything-" Brightness filled the tavern as the entrance door was opened and closed. "Hullo Miss, can I get ya something?" the bartender stood up from beside Squall and moved behind the counter. Squall simply buried his head in his arms.

"Yeah, you can actually," said an overly pleasant female voice. "I'm looking for someone. He wears this symbol," she pulled out a wrinkled photo from her pocket. "Seen this anywhere?"

"Nope," chuckled Sampson. "And if I had, what reasons would I fathom to tell you?"

"Every reason," the woman's voice turned dangerous. "I've been searching for a long time now, and if you have any leads, you had better let me hear them."

What is with women these days?' Squall peeked out over his arm in dull amusement. The woman sat three stools away from him. She had long jet black hair, her shorter bangs hanging over her forehead and slightly in her eyes. Her features were soft and pale, but she held her expression imposingly while trying to intimidate the barkeeper. Squall moved his eyes to Sampson who, unlike the woman, was smiling broadly at her aggression and making jest of her assertiveness.

"Well," said the barkeep, taping a finger to his lips. "That just don't tell me enough. I really don't think you're ready to hear the truth."

"What do you mean?" Rinoa's voice lifted and she leaned over the counter. "You know then?"

"Now I didn't say that did I? I didn't mean to get you all excited!" his booming chuckle echoed through the nearly-empty bar. "Don't go assumin' now. But yeah, I might know _something_."

Here it comes,' thought Squall as he buried his head again. 

"So spit it out already!"

"Hmm... I don't think you really want to know."

"Yes! Yes I do!"

"I just don't think you're pretty little face will appreciate what its worth..."

"Tell me. Now!" Rinoa slammed her hand onto the counter unceremoniously.

"Okay, if you _really_ wanna hear it," Sampson leaned forward with a vicious grin. "I know that if you want anything out of this old man you're gonna have to take you round, conniving, arrogant ass outside and learn some common _manners_," he hissed between clenched teeth, baring them.

Rinoa stared at the man in dumfounded astonishment. She blinked her wide eyes and tilted her head slightly, wondering for a moment if she had heard the man right. "Ex-excuse me?" she closed her gaping mouth as her eyebrows began to pinch together.

"That's right, you heard it correctly. Now you don't seem to be improving much, so should I put it a little more blunt? Ready, here it is: Get outta my bar," his voice had dropped three octaves.

Again, Rinoa started at him, confounded. Who the hell did he think he was? "I don't believe you're getting this old man," Rinoa growled, leaning back to stand and reach into her coat. "One last chance. Tell me what you know and it better be something I want to hear."

Sampson stood up straight and snorted in disgust, closing his eyes and lifting his eyebrows in stubbornness.

Rinoa let her breath come out long and shaky before drawing her 1911 pistol from the inside of her coat. She ignored the pleading voice in her head telling her this was somehow uncalled for, listening instead to the taunting voice repeating that the bartender deserved this. Bastard. She extended the gun within his arms' reach, aiming it directly at his head. She took a deep breath when she saw absolutely no fear in his eyes as he stared back at the gun with equal intensity and disgust.

Rinoa swallowed, then firmly pulled the safety trigger off. "Where is he?"

"Hmph..."

"Wrong ans-" A hand had suddenly gripped her aimed gun, another tightening around her wrist, causing her to release her hold. She gasped as the pistol was suddenly reversed, aimed directly at her temple with a strong arm holding her firmly from behind. "Let go!" she squealed in sudden panic, beginning to squirm nervously. Her body was jerked into an even tighter hold, the her captor's body pressed fully against hers from behind, both her wrists turned up to her chest and held by one of his hands in a death grip. He pushed the barrel of the gun into her flesh painfully.

Rinoa grimaced, then frowned, obviously still trying to put up some sort of relentless façade, but her trembling form gave away all those indications. She felt the man's hot breath on the other side of her face and could clearly smell the freshly-consumed alcohol. Rinoa turned her head just enough to catch his fatal glare. It was him! The man from the previous night! She gasped in surprise at being on the other side of those demanding eyes. He appeared absolutely feral, unraveling her soul until she felt so small and insignificant under his stare. "You should have listened upon the first warning," barked Squall lowly so only she could hear.

"I-I'm sorry," whimpered Rinoa, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Yeah, me too."

"What do you want? Are you going to shoot me?" Rinoa chanced a glance, suddenly remembering how familiar he seemed. If only she could recall... "If you're going to kill me, do it now," she snapped bravely.

"And sink to your level of disgrace?" whispered Squall menacingly. "I don't think so." He suddenly released his hold, pushing her in the direction of the door. "But I think I _will_ keep your toy," Squall frowned and put the lock back on the gun before slipping it into his coat somewhere. "Now leave for good before you ruin another one of my drinks."

Rinoa stood leaning against a table, watching as the man casually sat back in his end seat and pushed an empty mug toward the barkeeper, who grinned broadly and whispered something to cause the familiar man to grunt. Well, what are you waiting for Rinoa? A memorabilia of the gun he just stole from you?'

The girl shook her head to clear her rattled thoughts, then walked out of the pub, dazed and confused. A vibration in her pocket caused her to jump. A shaky hand reached to get it as Rinoa kept walking briskly down the street. Funny, she mused, as her hands tried to open the cell phone, that after having her life flash before her eyes, she was more stirred by how familiar that man was. "Yeah?"

"Rinoa, meet us at the hotel... we've found something."

"Yeah... me too," she breathed, closing the phone while staring ahead of her absently.

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A/N: Hurray for longer chapters. But I'm sure you noticed that that means loads more mistakes. Sorry bout that people! Read and Review!


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